The Ectoplasmic Chronicles
by jeminina
Summary: How did Amity Park's most notorious ghosts become...ghosts? Short and sweet.
1. Ember McLain

_Hey guys! My very first fan fiction! Yay! Okay, this whole "story" is a collection of very short stories about every one of each ghost's life JUST before their death! PLEASE NOTE: this "chronicle" is still **in progress**_, _and I will typically upload three chapters at a time, so please be patient! It takes me about 2-3 days for me to complete three chapters in one go. And PLEASE review and rate! _

_-Ardria_

**P.S.** Please send me a message (via my profile) if you want to request me to write a certain ghost's origin :).

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_Small clean up, added ruler lines -27 March 11_

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**Ember McLain**

**_September 3__rd__, 1983_**

"Shut up, Mom!" Ember McLain screamed. "I'm seventeen and I can date whoever I want!"

Infuriated by her parents' endless lectures, Ember stormed to her room, barricading the door with whatever wasn't nailed down.

"Ugh!" she muttered, seething.

_They forget I'm even here half the time, so why do they bother about me now?_

A soft breeze blew in from her open window, blowing a lock of auburn hair across her cheek. Ember stared at the view outside. Without a second thought, she grabbed her prized possession, a battered old guitar, and climbed through the pane, breaking into a run.

"Eric! Eric!" called Ember, as she knocked tirelessly on the door of her boyfriend's apartment. She relaxed and smiled as Eric opened the door.

"What's up, sweet cheeks?"

"My stupid parents say I can't see you anymore, so I ran away."

"Awww, babe! Come on in, then."

_He's so lucky, living by himself. His freedom; no one to tell him what to do, what not to do...now he has me to share it with._

Ember dropped herself down on Eric's leather couch, staring up at Eric's handsome blue eyes. He had raggedy shoulder-length black hair, his chin was fringed with stubble.

Eric sat down next to Ember.

"Ember. My favourite name, and my favourite girl."

She leant forward and kissed him.

* * *

**_September 18t__h__, 1983_**

"I've been working on a new song, wanna hear the draft?" Ember asked, gently strumming her guitar.

"Umm…first I gotta go outside for a sec. Miss me, babypop?" said Eric, halfway through the door.

"Of course," Ember replied, sighing quietly.

_Where does Eric keep disappearing off to lately? Just last week he said he couldn't stand to be away from me…_

Ember shook her head.

_I worry too much. Eric loves me, and always will. He said so._

* * *

**_September 30__th__ 1983_**

"You have beautiful hair, babe," Eric complemented, running his fingers through Ember's long ponytail.

She couldn't hold in a giggle.

"Oh, I just remembered…I gotta go, hun."

Ember couldn't help a feeling of annoyance wash over her as her boyfriend uttered those dreaded words for the whoknowshowmany-th time. Finally, her patience wore out.

Moving as silently as her clogs would allow, she trailed Eric.

_Wait, why is he going to the high school? He doesn't go there anymore! And why is he walking so fast?_

Moving stealthily to hide behind a bench, Ember crouched down and watched as Eric slowed to a stop.

_Who's that gir...no. He wouldn't. He loves me. Only me. _

"Love me, Eric?" the blonde asked.

"Always, sweet cheeks."

Eric bent down and kissed her.

Ember's world slowed to a stop.

Unable to think, she ran, warm tears flying off her cheeks.

Sobbing and gasping, she burst into Eric's apartment. She reached for a large pair of scissors and cut off the hair that Eric had said was "beautiful", right at the ponytail. She grabbed a bottle of car fluid and threw it around the room, now bursting with rage. Before she knew what she was doing, she seized a box of matches and lit one after the other, throwing them aimlessly around her. Overcome with misery and sorrow, she collapsed, allowing the flames to lick over her body, and finally engulf her.

_My name is Ember McLain! You will remember my name!_


	2. Box Ghost

_Revised, clean up, added the ruler lines-27 March 11_

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**Box Ghost**

**_July 15__th__, 1959_**

"Ahhh…nothing like a short break."

Propping his hands behind his head, Doug leaned back against the hard metal wall and crossed his legs.

Suddenly, a harsh voice interrupted his peace.

"DOUGLAS! Your lunch break was over five minutes ago! Get back to work!" spat Boss.

Doug groaned. _My lunch break started five minutes ago. _

Struggling to his feet, he moped back to his station.

_Why did I ever apply for this job? I was better off before._

Finally, Doug stopped in front of a large conveyor belt loaded with tubes of toothpaste.

Taking his time, he slowly packed a number of them into a cardboard box, taping it shut.

"Enjoy your break?" asked a feminine voice.

Doug smiled. It was Judy.

Judy was the single aspect of his job he looked forward to.

"No, not really," Doug laughed.

"Want any help? I finished my load ages ago."

"Sure, thanks."

Judy stationed herself next to him, already taping one shut.

"Wow, your fast," Doug commented.

Judy blushed.

Not too long after, they were done.

"There we are," said Judy, wiping her hands on her apron.

Doug glanced at her.

"What?" Judy asked, embarrassed. "Do I have something on my face?"

Doug was lost for words. Taking a deep breath in, he muttered, "Umm….do you want to, um, go to the park?"

Judy's eyes brightened. "Of course!"

He breathed out. _Yes!_

Over at Cororie Park, Doug was admiring Judy's features.

She was beautiful. Her green eyes were piercing, as bright as the stars. Her wavy, hazelnut hair was cropped short at her ears. She was unusual, as she wasn't as shy and withdrawn as the other ladies Doug knew.

Letting out a sigh, he let his eyes drop to his feet.

_A girl like her will never want a man like me. Especially not a man as fat, clumsy and awkward as me._

Something touched his hand. Judy was smiling at him, her hand on his.

Doug grinned, and looked up at the sky.

_Then again, miracles happen… _

* * *

**_August 9__th__, 1959 _**

Today was the day.

Clutching the small, black box in his hand, he smoothed his overalls and puffed up his chest.

"Hello, Doug!" called a familiar voice.

His confidence immediately faltered.

Doug panicked. _No, no, no! I'm not ready! _

He ran. He couldn't do it. He was a wimp.

Bolting as fast as his short, stubby legs could carry him, he weaved through the endless maze of boxes and conveyor belts that was his workplace.

"Doug! What's wrong?" she cried, cornering him so close that Doug could almost feel her breath.

"I…I…" he began, before scampering away again.

Looking back, he saw tears begin to form in Judy's eyes.

_I'm so sorry… _

Before he knew it, he had slammed into an enormous pyramid of cardboard boxes, which collapsed and tumbled all over him.

_What on Earth?_

Unable to support himself any longer due to the crushing weight surrounding him, he felt a small sob form in his throat.

_Goodbye, Judy. _

"Doug…" Judy whispered.

Something black and velvety caught her eye. It was a small box. Seizing the box, her cheeks were wet with tears. She flipped open the lid.

A sparkling, emerald ring met her eyes.

Gently lifting the ring out, she read the words engraved in the band:

_Judy, forever my love._


	3. Klemper

_This one's a random drabble :S. _

_-Ardria_

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**Klemper**

**_Date Unknown_**

"Willst du mein freund?"

"Erm…what?"

"Ah…ah…weel you be mein frund?"

"Freak."

After the girl had stridden away, Viktör Klemper let his head hang, dejected.

_Why won't anyone be my friend? _

He stared down at the frozen pond in front of him.

It wasn't _his _fault he had been born the way he was; his back hunched, his teeth overgrown, and his face horribly disfigured. It wasn't _his _fault his own parents had disowned him back in Germany, and no one had wanted to adopt him. Yet people often ran screaming at the sight of him.

He stood up and paced away onto the icy pond, attempting to fluently pronounce, "Will you be my friend?"

You see, poor Klemper had run away from his lonely orphanage, but soon realised the outside world was not much nicer. Everywhere he went, people called him a "freak" or a "monster". All he wanted was an understanding friend.

He also wished he had something else to wear other than his striped pink pyjamas.

"Wilst yon be mein frend? Will yon be mein friend? Will you be mein friend? Will you…will you be my friend?"

_Yes!_, he thought. _Now will someone finally be my friend? _

He tapped a passing red-haired boy.

"What?"

"Will you be…be my friend?"

"Ummm…sure?"

"Ja! Ja! Mir gelungen! Ich bin so glüklich!" cried Klemper, clapping his hands excitedly.

"Okay…whatever," said the boy, beginning to shuffle away.

"Wohin gehst du?" asked Klemper.

The boy was now sprinting away.

Klemper sighed.

_I guess that wasn't a good first impression. _

The ice beneath his feet cracked.

"Ahhh! _Help! Help!_" he screamed, thrashing his arms wildly in the freezing cold water.

He couldn't stay afloat any longer. The last strand of blonde hair sank down beneath the surface, and he was lost….not that anyone ever noticed he was gone.


	4. Johnny 13 and Kitty

_Added ruler lines- 27 March 11_

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**Johnny 13 & Kitty**

**_March 13__th__, 1977_**

"Ohh, I love your eyeshadow!"

"Your hair looks gorgeous today!"

"Love your jacket!"

….came the usual tirade of complements.

Kitty grinned, clearly enjoying her utter popularity. She was rich, spoilt and _fabulous._ Flicking a dreadlock of caramel hair, she strutted through the shops in the mall, eyeing each and every window display for something worth her interest.

_UG-ly...eww...sooo 1960's...not even my cat would wear that...not that I have a cat...ooohhh. _

She saw something _totally _worth her interest.

It was a guy. He had very greasy blonde hair, razor stubble, a leather coat and fingerless-gloves. He was standing just outside the mall doors, wiping his motorcycle.

_Hmm..._

She stalked over to him, and crooned, "Kitty. Who are _you?_"

Barely sparing her a glance, he replied, "Johnny. 'Sup?"

"Ohhh, nothing. Just wondered if this motorcycle of yours has enough room for _two._"

Johnny just raised an eyebrow, uncomprehending.

Sighing, Kitty hinted again, "For _you_ and _me._"

"Oh. Well, yeah."

Johnny sat down on his motorcycle, beckoning her to join him.

With a smirk, she sat herself down behind him, putting her hands on his waist.

Johnny revved the engine, and sped off with a squeal.

"Enjoyin' the ride?" he asked.

"Am I!" she shrieked, letting go of Johnny and raising her hands in the air, completely forgetting about the friends waiting for her in the mall.

Later, on a street-side bench...

"It was better...you know, with you on as well," he replied with a grin.

"So...where do you live?" she asked.

"The roads," was Johnny's simple reply.

"Hm. Tell me about yourself, Johnny."

"As long as I can remember, I've lived on the roads with my bike. Thirteen is my lucky number. It always has been. I like to be known as Johnny _13 _sometimes_._" Johnny explained, pointing to the number "13" on his jacket and motorbike.

"That's weird. I though thirteen was an _un_lucky number."

"Not for me it ain't. You see, it started when..."

Her lips met his.

* * *

**_May 13__th__ 1977 _**

Now living on "the roads" with Johnny, Kitty watched as he scraped the dirt from his motorcycle's wheels...over...and over.

Kitty sighed, leaning herself against a pole.

_Why is he so obsessed with his bike? He spends more time with it than he does with me! Does he KNOW how much I left behind for him?_

"Umm...Johnny?" she asked, desperate for his attention once more.

"Yeah, babe?"

"Wanna...wanna go out for a ride again?"

"Okay!" he replied, always eager for another trip on his motorcycle.

Whizzing through the city, Johnny sped faster than ever before.

_Probably because of those new "exhaust-something-speed-something-velocity boosters" or whatever he keeps on blabbing about. _

A sharp turn came. A cat had run out onto the road. Speeding out of control, a sickening screech followed...then a horrifying crunching sound. The motorcycle, Johnny and Kitty had slammed into a brick wall.


	5. The Lunch Lady

_Sorry I took so long in uploading this chapter! I had a problem with my computer. Anyway, here it is, and cross your fingers that my computer won't screw up again so I can get the next story up sooner._

_XOXO Ardria XOXO_

P.S. **PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE** rate and review (include which ghost/s in particular you want me to write a backstory for) :P!

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**The Lunch Lady**

**_February 18__th__, 1950_**

"Creamed pork liver, sweetie?" The-Cafeteria-Lunch-Lady (as she was commonly known by) asked, holding out a ladle of a suspicious-looking pudding.

"Ugh...no thanks," said the boy, cringing at the sight of his lunch.

"Do come again, dear!" she waved cheerfully. Under her breath she muttered, "Ungrateful pile of bones...might as well starve..."

Spooning a large serve of her specialty "Mystery Meat" onto the next queuer's tray, she glanced at next week's cafeteria menu.

_Day one, salad. Day two...salad. Day three...salad? What in the name of..._

Completely forgetting about the hungry students waiting for their lunch, she stormed off to Vice Principal Clifford's office.

Throwing open the door, she glared at the short, balding man sitting comfortably on an armchair.

"What is _this_?" she demanded, holding up a copy of the menu.

"Ahhh, yes. That, Theodora, is our new, more modern _carte du jour_. Haven't you heard? This school is moving on to a _healthier_ take on school life! No more of that _carnivore food _you like to distribute. Instead, there will be salads, vegetarian sandwiches...and sushi!" he answered, smirking.

"These children are growing, for goodness sake! A few flimsy leaves aren't going to help, not when these children are so _skinny_!" she spat, almost foaming at the mouth.

"Enough, Theodora. My mind has been made."

Fuming, The-Cafeteria-Lunch-Lady trudged out the door, slamming it so hard the floor shook.

_Stupid Vice Principal Clifford...I'll show him._

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**_February 21__st, __1950_**

"THEODORA. REPORT TO MY OFFICE THIS SECOND!"

Almost grinning, The-Cafeteria-Lunch-Lady calmly walked to his office.

"What is it, Vice Principal, dear?" she asked, smiling.

"_What_?" he hissed, "You know perfectly well _what_, Theodora!"

"Oh, you mean my minor changes to the menu?" she replied.

"_MINOR _CHANGES? You completely overlooked the set menu and served _this_!" he held up a plate of beef steaks. "This...this..._abomination_ you call food! Theodora, you are _fired_."

Now thoroughly seething, she stepped out the door.

_Oh, you've _really_ crossed the line now, Clifford. _

* * *

**_March 19th, 1950_**

"There you go!" said Miss Bryce, the new cafeteria lunch lady, neatly placing plate of potatoes on the tray.

"Thanks, Miss Bryce," replied the girl, licking her lips at the sight of the delicious food.

"Your very welcome, sugar," Miss Bryce beamed.

_How dare he replace me! How dare he! Especially with that shrimp of a lady!, _The-Lunch-Lady thought, as she peered through the cafeteria window.

_No matter. She won't be here for long. He'll pay. They'll _all _pay. _

Stealthily creeping (despite her size) through the double doors of the cafeteria, she silently entered the kitchen. With the precision of a diamond cutter, she squeezed a couple of drops of poison into the stewing casseroles.

_That should do it. _

"What are _you_ doing here?"

She whipped around.

It was Vice Principal Clifford.

"Theodora? What on earth are _you_ doing here? _Security_!" he cried.

She panicked.

Stealing a glance at the frothing casseroles, she saw violet fumes pouring out of each pot.

_Oh, that is not good. _

Barely noticing the screams and shouts drumming in her ears, she pounded out the doors.

She felt her pudgy legs slip from the floor. She had slipped on a stray piece of fallen lettuce.

_Darn vegetables! _

It was too late. The fumes had already sunk into her respiratory system.

Wheezing and spluttering, she slumped to the floor.

_At least I got my revenge._


	6. Penelope Spectra

**Penelope Spectra**

_**23**__**rd**__** December 1981 **_

_Penelope R. Spectra _

_PHD in Psychology, Psychiatry_

_and Philosophist of the Mind_

"Tell me what's wrong, dear."

Between sobs, the girl choked, "Dr Sp-pectra...he...he was horrible! He...would always...tell me he loved me...but then I found...out...he'd...CHEATED ON ME!"

The girl collapsed onto the neatly organised desk, sending pens and pencils clattering to the floor.

"There, there. I'm sure he never really loved you anyway," Penelope soothed, shrugging her shoulders.

The angst-ridden girl looked up, her eyes red and swollen, "He...he never loved me?"

Penelope put a hand on her shoulder, "For him to dump a wonderful girl like you, I'm sure that must be it."

The girl sobbed even louder.

With a small grin, Penelope sat back down, watching the girl.

_The misery in the air is so thick, I could touch it! It feels...so refreshing! I know; a respected psychologist like me should not be so sadistic. Oh well, then. _

Later that day, at Penelope's estate...

"Anyone particularly hopeless, today?" asked Bertrand, her butler/closest friend, as he set a tray of biscuits on the table.

"Oh yes! Today must have been the best yet!" she cried, almost laughing with contentment.

"That's good to hear. But I must warn you, Penelope, dear. If you're not careful, someone may realise what you are doing."

"Nonsense, Bertie! How long has it been since I discovered this? Twenty years? Thirty tops?"

"Forty-two years. Twenty-seven since I joined you."

"That long? No matter, I still look as unfailingly gorgeous as I did forty years ago!"

"True, true. Say, in all my time working with you, you still haven't told me how you use others' unhappiness to stay looking young for so long."

"That, my dear Bertie," she teased, winking over her dark shades, "Is a secret not even you can know."

As she dramatically stalked away, Bertrand stroked a hand over his wrinkles and grey hairs. _One day, I will_ _find out, _Penny, _dear. _

_**25**__**th**__** December 1981 (Penelope's Point of View)**_

_Ahhhh, Christmas. _

_A time of joy, presents, merriness and laughter._

_For most of us, anyway. _

_Oh, here comes another wretched soul. Just what I need right now. _

It was a man. His dark hair was an utter haystack, his eyes bloodshot and his face clearly unshaven.

"What is the problem, hun?" I asked, trying to peel my eyes off his filth.

The man merely sighed, propping an elbow on my desk. "Let's see...my life is in shambles, my fiancée left me, my parents hate me...Gee, I wonder what the hell is wrong with me," he sarcastically spat.

"Now, now, dear. We mustn't think thoughts like those! C'mon, turn that frown up-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence. God, lady! My stupid sister sent me here to get help. I don't see you helping me!" he hissed, running his hands through his matted hair.

"You obviously lack confidence in yourself, so let's try a little trick of mine, shall we?"

"Confidence? I'm damn confident about myself! Geez...I just want help with my life, not my personal issues."

I bit back a growl. God, this man is tough! Might take a while to get that misery out of him.

"Wait...it's Christmas. Why the hell are you working?" he asked, looking u from his knees.

"Well, just because the festivities are here doesn't mean my work must stop!" I grinned.

"Ugh, whatever. Just get this damn thing over with."

"Okay, just put on this," I held up a skirt, "and walk around outside. It does wonders to your eg-"

"ARE YOU FREAKIN' INSANE? What makes you think putting on a freakin' skirt will help me?" he hissed.

"Well, you see, it-"

"AW, DAMN THIS! I'm outta here!" he cried, tipping over his chair.

I would've gone after him, but I had to concentrate on not gra-oh, never mind.

My skin tingled. I could feel the wrinkles, spots and sagging begin to emerge. _Darn it! Not many people come for therapy on Christmas! If I don't get some depression soon, I'm going to wither! _

In desperation, I stormed outside, knocking over my entire desk in my haste. _To...to the prison! _

Resting my old body on the concrete stones that made up the wall, I scanned the building for a possible entrance. _Guard there...fence there...no, no, no, there must be a way in! Where...ah-ha! _

Scaling the fence as quietly as my heels would allow, I creeped through the yard.

_Oh no, I'm tired already! Damn it! _

Crouching low, I hid behind a shrub under a barred window.

"TWENTY YEARS. TWENTY, ya hear? Twenty years away from my wife...my son...," a man cried.

_Ahhh...this'll do. _

Squatting down against the wall, I let the misery flow.

_Yes! My pores are feeding on the depression! Yes! I can feel myself getting younger! Oh...those lab scientists that gave me this power...this gift...all those years ago must really be regretting it now! Yes!_

The sound of barking filled my ears.

_Oh no. _

The guard dogs furiously leapt at me, their teeth bared, froth dribbling from their growling mouths.

Scrambling to my feet, I dashed back to fence, climbed over it, and ran faster than I had ever run in all my eighty years

Before I knew it, I was at the park. But those damn demon dogs were hot on my trail.

_A tree! _

Scuttling up the oak, I tried to ignore the splinters digging into my legs.

Looking down at the fuming hounds underneath me, I felt my heart settle.

_Whew...that escapade really took some years off me. _

_CRACK. _The branch gave way.

_AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!_


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